


tell your boyfriend, if he says he's got beef, that i'm a vegetarian (and i ain't fucking scared of him)

by lostandlonelybirds (RUNNFROMTHEAK)



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: BAMF Donna Troy, Batman: Reborn, Crack Treated Seriously, Damian Wayne Has a Heart, Damian Wayne Loves Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne Plays Therapist, Damian Wayne has a crush on Donna Troy and that is so valid, Damian Wayne is a Little Shit, Damian Wayne just wants his Batman to be loved, Damian Wayne ships Dick with happiness, Damian Wayne's attempts at stealing kittens, Damian Wayne's failed attempts at murder, Dick Grayson is Bad at Feelings, Dick Grayson is Batman, Dick Grayson is Damian Wayne’s Parent, Donna Troy and Dick Grayson are platonic soulmates and you can totally fight me on that, Donna Troy is a goddess and no one deserves her, Five Stages of Grief, Fluff and Humor, Good Parent Selina Kyle, Hating it to Shipping it: the tragic story of Damian Wayne, Jason Todd Has a Heart, Jason Todd is Bad at Feelings, Jealous Jason Todd, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, My Continued Mocking of Tim Drake (it's loving i swear), My love for Donna Troy is so strong that I projected it onto Damian and I am not sorry, POV Damian Wayne, Pass it on, Past Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Pining Dick Grayson, Poor baby tries so hard, Protective Damian Wayne, RIP to Tim's notecards, Selina Kyle is that chill wine mom that loves the kids, Truth Serum, Unbetaed we die like Jason Todd refuses to, blink and you miss it reference to Last Laugh, but it's not actually grief, by anyone that isn't Slade Wilson or Jason Todd, enemies to idiots to lovers, he takes applications, i don't get it either, it's just Damian's hope for Dick's taste in partners slowly dying, poor kid tried, pretty please?, somehow this is fluff, this is my favorite title, you know I'm right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:14:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26187010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RUNNFROMTHEAK/pseuds/lostandlonelybirds
Summary: It had taken a few weeks for Damian’s ill-fated hopes for the more platonic explanation of Grayson’s unseemly conduct regarding Todd to expire because Damian (unlike Drake) is not an idiot (and Brown had prattled on about every instance of very clearly not platonically fueled tension, slowly crushing Damian’s remaining hopes for Richard’s taste in romantic partners). Denial, heavenly as he has now known it to be, can only take one so far. And as a pragmatist and the grandson of the great Ra’s al Ghul and son of the great Bruce Wayne, he assesses the situation from a logical perspective, free of any emotions clouding his impeccable judgment, and comes up with a solution that benefits both himself and Grayson.Jason Todd must die.Or the story of how Damian Wayne became the number one shipper of JayDick and is not at all happy about it.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Other(s) (past), Donna Troy & Damian Wayne, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Selina Kyle & Damian Wayne
Comments: 57
Kudos: 518
Collections: JayDick Summer Exchange 2020





	tell your boyfriend, if he says he's got beef, that i'm a vegetarian (and i ain't fucking scared of him)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [prompt_fills](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prompt_fills/gifts).



> I took a little bit of getting-together, a little bit of love confession, a little bit of not-at-all secret to anyone but them pining, and a whole lot of nosy family members. I really hope you like this treat! 
> 
> (note: I have no clue how this is fluff. I have no clue why this is so long. I have no clue what possessed me. I'm just rolling with it at this point)

**Denial**

Grief, of course, comes in stages. Damian’s studied enough texts to understand the simple-mindedness put into research on the afflictions of grief towards a decomposing sack of flesh, and he understands that with said afflictions towards the aforementioned sack of flesh come things like stupidity and false hope. Unlike Drake, Damian proudly considers himself a realist. Pragmatic and logical to a fault, rather than emotional and unstable in the face of a dead father. He’s seen bodies before. He’s watched the light fade from the eyes of souls weaker than him. Those unworthy of life, in the League’s ranks. Damian’s seen death, and he’s not weak-minded enough to play pretend or run off to play detective when he sees something he doesn’t like.

Damian is perfectly content accepting things as they are and seeing the truth through the smokescreen of unnecessary mundane thoughts of emotions and attachments. Which is, of course, how he knows his senses (normally exceptional, courtesy of a perfect bloodline) have somehow been affected by some unseen dastardly plot. Because he sees the truth in every situation, and this truth his traitorous eyes are constructing before him must be a lie.

It cannot be the truth, and he’d sooner carve his heart out and serve it to Drake than admit the weakness in his perception where Drake or Grayson or even mother might hear, but it appears as though… It _appears_ as though…

Todd, the filthy street rat fresh from Arkham with two smoking pistols in hand, appears to be flirting with his Batman. And Grayson, the surprisingly warm-hearted and caring ( ~~idiot~~ ) Damian’s come to accept ( ~~love~~ ) as his mentor is _flirting back_. It’s unacceptable. Completely inappropriate. The vipers and temptresses in cheap makeup with knock-off designer clothing are more preferable to this… this _disgrace_.

One of the few faults mother had made known of his father had been his afflictions for those on the less virtuous side of morality. Those not steeped in greys or whites, but painted in black. Criminals like Selina Kyle. Harlots like the simple-minded women eager for money and status he’d allow into his bed. It had been something Damian had dreaded facing, initially, because his mother is the only woman his father should care to be with. The only woman _truly_ worthy of the Dark Knight, the only woman _truly_ equal to him in prowess and status and worth.

The one advantage of Grayson, even before Damian had softened towards him, had been the lack of distasteful partners likely to make themselves known. His split from Gordon and the alien had not been pleasant or left much room for reconciliation (let alone rekindling), and Grayson tends to only fall for those he knows inside and out. With most of Grayson’s friends taken, Damian feared no romantic partners he'd be forced to deal with or entanglements sure to get in the way of their duty and deference to Gotham as her heroes. He should’ve known better. As intelligent as Grayson may be, his heart is an idiotic simpleton incapable of cultivating a palette for competent persons to engage with (Drake as the first proof and West and Harper as the second and third) and his kindness knows no bounds when some of the company he keeps are very clearly unworthy of the gift he bestows upon them through simple acknowledgment of their sad existence, and the forgiveness he offers without expecting anything in return ( ~~forgiveness for people like Drake, who’d abandoned Grayson and made him feel lesser, made him _weak_~~ ).

And _of course_ his mentor’s penchant for lost causes leaves him somehow desiring the biggest lost cause known to Gotham (excluding the Joker and other company the resurrected Robin had kept during his stint at the Asylum among his people: the deranged), with a documented puppy crush on Grayson. It’s not like Damian hasn’t identified Grayson’s type after a bit of research. Those that need him. Those that _want_ him. Desperately. Completely. Helplessly. He needs to be needed.

Koriand’r had needed Grayson at first, and that had built the love they’d shared. Roy Harper had needed Grayson to cope with being a single father and the pain from his drug withdrawals, and so they had fallen into bed and later in love. Slade Wilson, Damian has his suspicions and prefers to not linger on any of them for too long considering the man is older than Richard by at _least_ several decades. Barbara Gordon had needed Grayson’s support, and then there had been the failed engagement and ruinous entanglement that only proved Damian’s point about the pointless idiocy in such entanglement, but he digresses. The facts lay in the statistics, and the statistics show that red-head is preferred, but _pathetically needing Dick Grayson’s support and attention_ is required.

Jason Todd, through all the paternal-figure issues and bravado, practically screams a need to be supported. To have attention. Damian’s almost certain the entire nonsense with the demon-bat suit had been his sick and twisted form of foreplay. Perhaps shooting Damian had been his form of teasing Richard. It would explain why he’d unnecessarily stripped Grayson of the Batsuit when he’d captured them. Left in boxers, bared to Todd’s perverted eyes.

Perhaps this is pity. Perhaps Richard is pitying the poor soul helplessly in love with him, fearing Todd might do something drastic if his _affections_ (disgusting things that they are) were to be rebuffed even slightly. Todd _is_ unstable, courtesy of Damian’s grandfather’s Lazarus Pit, wasted on a soldier that had fallen for an obvious trap. Perhaps maternal issues come to play in his _affections_ as well; Grayson _has_ been described as nurturing and maternal by the younger generations of two-bit sidekicks and second-rate heroes.

He watches, in poorly concealed horror, as Richard’s hand presses against the new red bat of the Red Hood’s chest, fingers splayed out and teasing where they trace the lines. Does his mentor _want_ to encourage the street rat? He’s never known his Grayson to be cruel, so perhaps this is a platonic gesture. This could be another form of _affection_ completely innocent in nature, one he’s never learned in the absence of his father’s warmth (non-existent though it might have been) and in the fleeting comfort of his mother’s hugs (rare as they were). It could be innocent… but then Grayson bats his eyelashes up at Todd prettily, the other hand reaching up to grip Todd’s bicep tightly, and Damian feels the desire to walk off the rooftop without his grappling hook.

“Little Wing,” Grayson murmurs fondly, “you’ve gotten so _big_ …”

Todd’s smile is soft, softer than it has any right to be when he’d been trying to kill them not two weeks ago (and _why_ does Damian seem to be the only one recalling this important tidbit?!)

“That’s what happens when you get dunked in a mystical pit of glowing goo, Pretty Bird. All that childhood malnourishment goes away.”

“I can _tell_ …”

No. Just _no_. Just… _no_.

“Are they—” Brown starts, but Damian cuts her off with a glare.

“Not. A. Word.”

She stands on her tip-toes to peek over at Red Hood’s hand, wandering dangerously close to Grayson’s infamous assets (that he’d heard Wilson wax about during his stint at the League’s base, just one of the many reasons he will kill the man at the first opportunity, path of redemption be damned).

Jason clears his throat awkwardly, shifting on his feet and blushing darkly.

“Are you an angel, because you fell from heaven?”

“Oh that adorable idiot,” Brown says with a small laugh. Damian, perhaps immaturely, sticks his fingers in his ears so he doesn’t have to suffer Grayson’s response.

* * *

**Anger**

It had taken a few weeks for Damian’s ill-fated hopes for the more platonic explanation of Grayson’s unseemly conduct regarding Todd to expire because Damian (unlike Drake) is not an idiot (and Brown had prattled on about every instance of very clearly not platonically fueled tension, slowly crushing Damian’s remaining hopes for Richard’s taste in romantic partners). Denial, heavenly as he has now known it to be, can only take one so far. And as a pragmatist and the grandson of the great Ra’s al Ghul and son of the great Bruce Wayne, he assesses the situation from a logical perspective, free of any emotions clouding his impeccable judgment, and comes up with a solution that benefits both himself and Grayson.

Jason Todd must die.

Which, as far as ideas go, Damian believes it may be one of his best. It benefits Damian because it is one less threat to the city he’s sworn to protect, and one less person taking his Batman’s focus off the more important things. It benefits Grayson because Todd is quite clearly the worst sort of romantic candidate he could pick.

As an idea, it is perfect. Simple. But the execution (literal and metaphorical) proves to be a tad more difficult. For one, the man’s paranoia rivals his father’s. For two, the righteous killing (it is not murder if it’s justified, he’s discovered, and he’s certain the law would be on his side were they to know the full extent of Todd’s intentions towards the city’s beloved Batman) cannot be tied back to him. Grayson would forgive him, he knows this, but it’s easier to sidestep the issue entirely by making it _not_ trace back to him. It’s something his mother has prepared him for extensively, it’s just a matter of selecting the perfect method and perfect person to shove under the bus.

His first attempt involves a crowbar, some fear gas, and a _useless_ henchmen he’d paid off to lure Todd away from Grayson on patrol. The henchmen stutters and bumbles, and fails to administer the fear toxin properly, leaving him vulnerable to the wrong side of Todd’s gun (with rubber bullets because he has no shame in his manipulation of Grayson’s poor, stupid heart). The crowbar never sees action because he’s _not_ going to leave it lying around where Grayson can find it, and he scraps that particular plan. While it might be more poetic to frame the Joker or Crane for killing Todd the same way he’d died before (excluding the bomb, because it had been short notice and he hadn’t felt like asking his mother to assist him in killing her little experiment), he has to stick within his means. He has to rely on the tools readily available at his disposal, and not the incompetence of those surrounding him.

His second attempt is foiled by Joker of all people, who orchestrates a mass breakout that requires Damian to be at Grayson’s side as Robin (ergo under his watch) for hours upon hours. The poison he’d been planning to slip into Jason’s food is dropped in a back alley somewhere in the Diamond District mid-fight with Poison Ivy, and Damian’s irritation is only stifled by the bone-deep exhaustion and numerous bruises covering his skin. Jason Todd it seems, is luckier than Damian had anticipated. He will adjust his plans accordingly, as his mother had always taught him.

Jason Todd will die, just as soon as he gets some rest and heals.

His third, fourth, and _fifth_ attempt all involve various forms of fire, pyrotechnics, and carefully-calculated controlled explosives designed to mimic various criminals on the loose in Gotham. Somehow, inexplicably, Grayson appears each time to save Todd, or Todd simply jumps out a window and blows the safehouse up _himself_. A weaker man would admit defeat, but Damian is an _al Ghul_ and a _Wayne_. He will not admit defeat. Not ever.

By his tenth failed attempt, he’s a bit desperate. Grayson’s moon eyes only grow more pathetic with each day Jason Todd draws breath. Todd’s deceit only grows more clever and elaborate with each day Grayson withholds from sleeping with him (to Damian’s knowledge, which he’s almost certain is accurate and backed up by cameras he’d installed outside Grayson’s bedroom at all possible entrances). By the tenth failed attempt, this time with a _literal bomb_ in Todd’s precious hood (less phallic than the last, at least), he’s come to realize he himself cannot kill Todd, for whatever reason.

Perhaps fate favors Todd, or perhaps fate simply wants to make Damian _work_ for his reward (Todd’s head on a silver platter, far away from Grayson). Either way, it only makes sense that he call in a professional with a fake name, and a fake IP address, and a voice that belongs to some nobody barista in a coffeeshop across the street from Wayne Industries. He sends an encrypted message to Deadshot, one he’s confident the assassin won’t be able to trace and is pleased when he receives a price and an affirmation. Ten million dollars is nothing when you’re the heir to a billion-dollar empire, prepped for wealth from birth (and he has several off-shore accounts he’d neglected to inform Grayson of from his mother, as a gift for his eleventh birthday and her silent form of spite towards Richard), and ten million dollars is much less than the amount he’d collect to dispose of Todd.

Lawton’s reputation precedes him, so Damian is secure in the knowledge that Grayson will soon be safe from the interloper and his own wanton desires. Damian is secure in the knowledge that _Gotham_ will be safe from the anti-hero soon enough.

What he hadn’t accounted for was Slade Wilson, Richard’s alleged-ex that still very much respects him and desires him (Damian wishes he could erase that knowledge in particular from his head, but alas). Wilson, being a gun-for-hire himself, catches wind of the planned murder and tips Richard off just in time to stop it. Damian has to physically bite down on his tongue to keep from screaming, especially at the not-at-all accidentally brush of Slade’s hand against Grayson’s ass, and the way he leans into Richard to whisper praise at the man’s form.

The only up-side to the failed-hit is the look on Todd’s face when he sees Wilson, and the way his green eyes light up like grandfather’s do when he’s particularly incensed. It brings Damian some small modicum of pleasure, but the smug smirk on Wilson’s face and the way Grayson doesn’t exactly push the elder away sours it. Damn Lawton. Damn Todd. Damn _Wilson._ Damn Grayson’s naivety.

Damn. Damn. _Damn_.

“Demon Brat,” Todd taunts him later that week, arm tight around Grayson’s waist as he supports the elder’s weight. “you jealous you don’t get to feel the goods?”

Grayson had been injured in a firefight between two warring gangs, and _of course_ Todd had been involved and swooped in to save the fallen Bat like some sort of conniving guardian angel. It’s taken _eighteen_ failed murder attempts to reach this point. He’s not angry. He’s not irritated. He’s _enraged_. He pulls his katana from its sheath and points it at Todd warningly. Grayson blinks at him, confused, but Todd’s smirk only widens.

That’s _it_.

“Lecherous _cretin_ ,” Damian hisses, and only allows Todd enough time to set Grayson down gently before attacking.

“Fucking hell kid!”

“LITTLE D!”

(tragically, the damage he does manage isn’t the permanent kind, and it is after the twentieth failed attempt at murder and the second failed attempt at non-subtle methods of murder that he gives up)

“Fucking _Todd_ ,” he mutters mutinously under his breath.

Pennyworth raises an expectant brow at him, and he sighs before handing over the five-dollar bill now required for curse words.

“That will do it, Master Damian. I anticipate we’ll need an additional swear jar by the time Master Jason departs.”

“He’s _here_ for _dinner_?”

Alfred inclines his head, lips ticked in a half-smile.

“Indeed.”

“ _Fuck_.”

“That will be an additional five dollars, Master Damian, and might I suggest you get cleaned up before dinner is served?”

Damian clicks his tongue in response and refuses to speak to anyone that night. If murder won’t work, he’ll have to find some other way to remove Todd from their lives.

* * *

**Bargaining**

Were it not for the fact that he’d combed through Oracle’s surveillance systems along with Grayson’s, the League’s, the GCPD’s, and Todd’s, Damian would logically conclude that some sort of conspiracy existed that allowed Todd’s poisonous existence to _**keep** **thwarting** **Damian’s** **plans**_.

He’d knocked Todd out and shipped him to China, but the transport ship never left Gotham Bay. He’d strapped Todd to a bus bound for Chicago, and he’d somehow regained consciousness before making it even _halfway_. He’d wrapped Todd up like a Christmas present and delivered him into Black Mask’s _lap_ and _still_ Todd had appeared for Sunday dinner on time without a single cut. It should be impossible. Todd should not be this clever. Yet… _Yet_ … here he lives. Still near Grayson. Still in Damian’s presence _far_ too often. Still breathing despite Damian’s best efforts.

Perhaps the solution lay not in _Todd_ as Damian had assumed, but in _Grayson_. Despite the sickening sort of dancing around and flirting Todd and Grayson had been unashamedly engaging in for the past few months, there had been no improvement in their relationship’s true status or title. A small comfort, but a _comfort_ nonetheless. Grayson’s romantic notions of saving Todd through the power of love may have blinded him to the world of possibilities that had not attempted to murder Damian, and perhaps Damian could _show_ Grayson his options and pull him from Todd’s treacherous clutches.

First, Damian needs criteria for his candidates.

Not Jason Todd or Slade Wilson is a good starting standard, but his Batman deserves the best. Which means high standards to vet out the less worthy. He decides that, based on Richard’s recent romantic history, his mentor’s suffering from a fixation on the less righteous portion of the caped community. Morally ambiguous becomes his second requirement because it allows room for the romanticism of “saving” someone (which Grayson seems incapable of abandoning if Todd is an indication) while remaining in the realm of redeemable. It should also be someone Grayson knows, preferably someone with whom he shares a history. Richard has no preference as far as gender goes, which gives Damian a bit of wiggle room.

Second, Damian needs to find the candidates. It doesn’t take long for him to compile a list of the grey side of the caped community and cross-reference it with known acquaintances of Grayson, or at least people he’s documented run-ins with that aren’t _entirely_ negative.

Rose Wilson’s cut from the list immediately, for poor family connections (because no, just _no_ ) and the odd apprentice-mentor relationship Richard had noted in the most recent file on her. Black Adam is also cut because he’s as unpredictable as Todd and lives too far away for any relationship to truly last. He saves John Constantine’s file alongside Helena Bertinelli, Selina Kyle, Harleen Quinzel, Jason Blood (in case Grayson is particularly attached to Todd’s name), and Jean-Paul Valley.

Third, Damian needs to assess the interest of the candidates regarding Grayson, preferably without contacting them or influencing what mask they might choose to wear.

Helena Bertinelli's sexual history with Grayson paired with her cooperation with the Bats makes her an optimal candidate, but she’s too closely tied to Gordon, and too far down her own path of redemption to hold Grayson’s interest terribly long. So Huntress is out. Jean Paul-Valley kills for the “right” reasons in his mind, much like Todd, but seems to have some sort of mental instability notarized in case files father had kept on all his allies (ex or other). So Azrael is _not_ up to standards, not when Todd offers enough mental instability on his own (and Azrael appears to be painfully straight, as Grayson would phrase it). Selina Kyle, from observation of her interactions with Grayson, views him in a platonic light as the son of her dead flame, and possibly feels a maternal obligation to him. Despite Grayson’s known maternal issues and Kyle’s known parental issues, Damian holds no hope that their relationship will turn in a more promising direction. So Catwoman is out.

John Constantine and Jason Blood both noticeably hold respect for Grayson’s prowess and leadership, have never attempted to murder him, and _have_ murdered before, operating on a more grey morality as Damian had hoped. Harley Quinn does hold a physical attraction towards Nightwing, Damian’s concluded, and her skills in gymnastics give them some common ground upon which to build a relationship. So Damian has three perfect candidates matching Grayson’s type, each of whom is objectively attractive (according to the perception of media and other members of the caped community) and finds Grayson attractive.

Fourth, Damian has to present his findings to Grayson and use his insider knowledge of the man’s thinking to persuade him to pursue a relationship with one of them. _Any_ of them. _All_ of them, if that’s what it takes. Todd will _not_ be a permanent fixture in his life. He _refuses_.

“Little D,” Grayson says patiently, with a twitching smile hinting at amusement, “what is all this?”

Damian clears his throat, pushing the folders towards Grayson as politely as he can.

“This is a dossier of potential romantic candidates including an in-depth psychological evaluation I personally cultivated, interviews with known associates and past romantic partners, and known attributes with a pros and cons list stapled to the back.”

Overall, it’s one of the best proposals he’s put together. Even the idiots that somehow have a place in his company would be hard-pressed to find any flaws in it. He’d even managed an interview with Joker for Quinn, which had been an interesting conversation with far too many euphemisms for Damian’s tastes. Damian stands tall, smiling proudly up at Grayson as he flicks through the pages carefully.

“Harley Quinn? Really?”

Damian clicks his tongue impatiently.

“My reasoning for the selection is outlined on page four, Grayson. Honestly, can’t you _read_?”

“It just says that she’s redeemable with a dark past and finds me attractive.”

“Precisely.”

Richard chuckles, reaching out to ruffle Damian’s hair like he’s humoring him. Damian glares at him, but allows the expression of his _affections_ , hoping it will relieve him of the urge to express them with Todd.

“You’re such a sweet kid, trying to look out for me like this. But I’m not… I don’t _need_ a relationship right now, Dami.”

“Oh yes you do, Grayson. There are two more candidates for you to examine if you find Quinn less than optimal.”

“Dami—”

“Constantine's most recent ex, Zatanna Zatara,” Damian interrupts, “reports high levels of satisfaction with his performance in the more lewd aspects of consummating their relationship, and his emotional issues and trauma should keep your hero complex entertained for a great deal of time—"

“My _what_?”

“He’s also an active member of Justice League Dark, and has a more flexible schedule.”

Richard sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Damian, Harley Quinn and Constantine aren’t—”

“Jason Blood’s romantic history is limited,” Damian says, ignoring Richard entirely, “but he operates on a similar morality to Constantine and appears to be a valued member of the Justice League reserves and capable of compromising for the sake of the mission, which makes him an ideal candidate for dating you. His demonic side should hold your interest, and satisfy the darker side you prefer your conquests to have.”

“Damian, why are you so concerned about my love life? Don’t you want me to focus on Batman?”

“ _Honestly,”_ Damian tuts, “your reputation is too enthralling for the less savory of your associates, so the sooner you are off the market, the sooner you can wholly focus on Gotham and our partnership. Intercourse should also help your stress levels, so long as I don’t have to hear or see it I am able to accept that.”

Grayson flushes.

“Please stop. _Please_.”

Damian glares at his Batman.

“I will _not_ accept Slade Wilson or Jason Todd as permanent fixtures in our life, Richard. I _refuse_.”

“Slade? Jason? I’m not _interested in either of them!_ ”

Damian, for once giving in to the impulse, facepalms.

“You stupid, poor fool,” he mutters, leaving Grayson stuttering and confused in the study.

He needs to re-evaluate his options, and perhaps revisit murder as a solution since Grayson’s obliviousness had not factored in his calculations. It is _entirely_ too early for this.

Back to the drawing board, as the expression goes he supposes.

* * *

**Depression**

It had taken two weeks for Damian to realize Todd would not be leaving anytime soon, and three to accept that Grayson’s _affections_ go too deep to be superimposed with a far superior candidate. Damian had even widened his criteria to include the deranged, but Grayson’s stubbornness pushed through even the most attractive candidates recently escaped from Arkham. Brown and Cain had sat him down for a talk about his attempts, and he’s come to know that it is impossible to kill Todd, for reasons unknown, and impossible to show Richard the light.

So here he sits, cuddled by the few tolerable creatures left. Away from the soap opera that patrol has turned into since Todd’s daring increased and Grayson’s shameless posturing lost any sort of restraint.

Gotham’s quiet as Damian’s feet dangle over the fire escape, Catwoman’s cats surrounding him. He smiles softly as one crawls into his lap, purring lightly when he pets it.

“You better not be stealing my cats, Boy Wonder,” Kyle says from behind him, sliding the screen door open. “I’d hate to call Bats on you.”

Her arms are crossed as she leans against the open door, smiling in her skintight suit.

Damian clicks his tongue, still smiling slightly as more cats come to him.

“I can’t help that they like me, Kyle. Perhaps they’d prefer not living with a harlot.”

She rolls her eyes, sitting next to him and taking the kitten cuddled in his lap into her hands. Damian scowls, even as another kitten replaces the stolen one.

“Speaking of Bats,” she continues, obviously ignoring his jab, “Shouldn’t you be with him?”

Damian sighs, feeling his earlier frustration bleed into the calm serenity created by the purring kittens cuddling him.

“We ran into the Red Hood,” he begins, and Kyle’s eyes dawn in understanding. “Batman sent me to patrol another area.”

She grins.

“And you decided to steal my cats?”

“Tt. This fire escape is a valuable viewpoint above one of the worst areas in Gotham. I’ve stopped five muggings and intercepted one attempted murder already.”

The kittens’ meow in agreement and Kyle glares as her stolen kitten returns to Damian.

“Traitors, see if you get any of that luxury shit this week.”

They ignore her, and Damian smirks in victory. She pulls her goggles and hood off, freeing her hair and sighing.

“Jason’s still lusting after your brother, then?”

Damian sends her a look, confused.

“If you mean Grayson’s still insufferably pining and letting it interfere with his cases, then yes.”

Kyle’s eyes widen in shock.

“Wait, kid, are you saying _Dick_ has a crush on Jason? I called it!”

“Tt. It’s impossible to not notice, especially when he’s confronted about his… _affections_.” Damian frowns. “And tragically, despite the best of my and Lawton’s efforts, Todd’s personage continues to interfere with our partnership and affect Grayson’s competence drastically. I even made allowances for Grayson to _have_ a romantic partner! Anyone but _Todd!_ And Todd doesn’t respond well to threats _or_ attempted murder. He just won’t die, _or_ give up on Grayson!”

Catwoman chuckles, ruffling his hair even as he glares. She seems surprisingly unsurprised about the attempted murder tidbit, perhaps it had passed through the grapevine.

“I’ll let you in on a secret – Jason’s had a crush on Dick since _before_ he became Robin. I’m pretty certain that shooting is his way of flirting.”

“That’s…”

She flashes a grin.

“Odd? He used to flirt by insulting him. I thought it was hilarious, what was even better was how Bruce would respond.”

“What was my Father’s reaction?” Damian asks, crossing his legs and scratching his kitten on the ears. He’s rewarded with a nuzzle.

“He would go into denial, of course. The smartest man I’ve ever met, and he was _so stupid_ at the same time. I remember at this one gala, Dick asked Jason to dance and Jason turned bright red, and when the dance ended, Jason kissed Dick on the cheek. Bruce _left the room_ , and when I brought it up to him, he changed the subject. Point blank wouldn’t talk about it. Dick wouldn’t either, he’d turn bright red anytime it was brought up.”

Damian frowns, looking up at the polluted sky. At least his father understood Damian’s strife, fat lot of good that does him when said father is dead.

“Thank you, Kyle.”

She bumps his shoulder.

“What for?”

His eyebrows furrow.

“For… telling me, of Father. Every time he’s discussed and I’m there, they speak of how _brilliant_ he was, how _kind_ and _brave_ and _selfless_ , and it’s…”

Damian sighs, trying to phrase it right.

“The man I met was cold, and calculating, and untrusting. I never knew my Father, and he never got the chance to know me beyond the Al Ghul name. The memories people share, the Bruce Wayne they speak of…he’s perfect. I’m never going to know my Father, I’ve made my peace with that, but I want to know the man he was, flaws and all. I…”

He flounders and is frustrated when he feels tears edge at his eyes. Kyle coos, shooing the kittens away and pulling him into her arms, nuzzling his hair slightly.

“I’m happy to do it anytime, Baby Bird. I love your Father, but he could be an ass. Anytime you want to hear about him, just ask.”

He looks at her.

“Love?”

She smiles softly, arms tightening around him slightly and looking off towards Wayne tower.

“Some things go beyond the grave,” She replies cryptically. “Love is one of them.”

Damian doesn’t know if she’s speaking of Bruce Wayne or Jason Todd when she says this, so he remains silent and lets her reminisce. Wouldn’t do to treat Kyle’s kindness with his temper, however much he might loathe Jason Todd.

*

The next night, Grayson announces his intentions of joining the League on a mission alongside Todd and asks Damian to stay in the Penthouse and focus on school work. Damian promises Grayson he will do just that, up until the Batplance leaves Gotham. Then, he’s off, flying among the stars the way Grayson had taught him, breathing in the fresh, cool air and feeling something akin to joy blossom in his chest. He doesn’t normally laugh, but falling makes him understand the desire. Up until he finds his babysitter, of course, waiting for him.

Donna Troy is smug from her perch on the rooftop, all sparkling hair and crimson lips and long limbs Damian traces with an artist’s eye. She’s stunning, aesthetically speaking, and he understands a bit better why so many men are struck by her (literally and metaphorically). Damian’s heard Grayson call her his other-half before (platonically of course, because Damian _had_ tried that angle of romance before abandoning any and all emotion regarding hope), and he thinks he can see it in the manipulative tilt of her head, the knowing gleam in her ice-blue eyes.

“Grayson sent you to babysit me, didn’t he?”

Troy’s smirk widens, a glimmer of movement as she stretches out like a cat in the best spot of sunshine available. The suit is befitting of someone Grayson views as his best friend – overly showy and not the slightest bit covert. At least it’s not quite as unseemly as the suit Brown calls “Discowing” for reasons pertaining to the color scheme and sinfully low neckline.

“What makes you say that, squirt?”

“Alfred is on leave in England, Brown and Cain are predisposed with Birds of Prey nonsense, Gordon and I do not get along, and Grayson is working a case with the Justice League he did not permit me to assist on, most likely due to Todd’s imposition.”

She snorts.

“You _so_ are B’s son. I see N in you too.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment, Troy?”

“First part,” she says, mischief dancing in her eyes. “No. The second part is the biggest compliment I have to give.”

Damian nods.

“You care for Grayson, correct?”

Troy smiles at him, patting the spot next to her for him to sit. He does so hesitantly, feeling on edge at the lack of… judgment? Caution? In her approach to him. Harper, West, and the Atlantean hadn’t been like this with him. They’d… been confrontational, to say the least.

“Understatement of the year, short-stack. I’d do anything for Dick.”

“Do you… _tolerate_ Todd’s intentions towards him? Do you not believe he will harm Grayson?”

Troy wraps an arm around him, which Damian permits in favor of getting answers. His cheeks do feel a bit warm, and he wonders if he’s catching a cold.

“Dick’s always been quick to fall in love, and he’s fallen for people a _lot_ worse than Jason Todd. Jason’s not going to hurt him without hurting himself, and if he does I’ll be the first person to hunt him down.”

Troy seems to be the reasonable sort, so Damian fixes her with a hard stare.

“He’s killed.”

“So has most of the Justice League.”

“He’s self-destructive and unstable.”

She smirks.

“He’s a lot more stable than you realize, it just took time. And have you _met_ Dick? He’s the definition of self-destructive.”

Damian narrows his eyes at her.

“He’s already attempted to harm Grayson.”

She shrugs.

“Dick’s already forgiven him, and it’s not up to us to tell him not to. As much as I would love to sometimes”

Damian heaves a great sigh, shoulders slumping.

“Kid?”

He looks at Troy expectantly, and her grin is blinding.

“If he _does_ hurt our boy, you got first dibs. I’ll even hold him for you.”

He smiles at her, slumping against her shoulder.

“That would be much appreciated, Troy.”

* * *

**Acceptance**

“Hey Little D!” Grayson greets, ruffling his hair as he makes his way to the cereal Pennyworth hadn’t yet found. Damian glares at his older brother, smoothing his hair back into its previous style before quickly admitting defeat.

Grayson’s hands always win over hair gel, no matter _how much_ Damian uses, and any _true_ Al Ghul knows what battles are worth fighting. Fighting against Richard’s affection would be akin to fighting the ocean’s waves – pointless, tiring, and frustrating. Besides, as much as Damian loathes to admit it, he does love Grayson, and he does love the feeling of peace with his big brother’s arms around him (but really, the man can stop ruffling his hair and treating him like he’s a _child_ ).

“Tt,” he clicks his tongue, taking another bite of the apple oatmeal Pennyworth had prepared for him. He looks at his mentor over his bowl of food, narrowing in on the small twitch of Richard’s right hand. That explains the early rise. Grayson isn’t a common sight at the breakfast table unless patrol ends early or he fails to sleep and judging by the black coffee clutched in the older Robin’s other hand, it’s the latter.

“How _is_ the dead Robin doing?” he asks, smirking as Grayson’s entire back snaps straight.

Damian may not be the World’s Greatest Detective, but he’s observant (and he’s had a tracker on Grayson for the last few weeks after another kidnapping incident featuring the elder’s less protected identity). He seemed to approach one particular abandoned warehouse boarding the Red Hood’s territory, one belonging to an otherwise nonexistent Jacob Battinson.

(Brown had found it amusing, Damian finds it odd, but the man is rather insane)

“I…Jason’s good, not that I’ve seen him much.”

There’s a pout in the man’s voice that tells him Grayson is telling the truth. Peculiar… he wonders if Todd had blown up the safehouse and Richard hasn’t yet found another one to invade. He’ll have to check or make Brown check ( ~~she’s as interested in Grayson’s behavior as Damian is, finding the Batman’s infatuation with the Red Hood hilarious~~ ).

“I don’t know what you see in that imbecile, honestly. If you wanted a murderer, we could have one imported from Arkham. Might even be an improvement.”

He has, of course, tried to do just that before, but apparently Grayson does not hold and affection for any of the various deranged lunatics with a rap sheet near Todd’s Damian had presented. So picky. You’d think Batman would have better taste.

Richard’s jaw falls open, _Crocky Crunchies_ falling from his mouth as a flush spreads across his cheeks.

“I, we, he—”

Damian rolls his eyes.

“Don’t tell me you’re _still_ oblivious to your own…” he scrunches his nose in disgust, spitting the word like it’s a disease, “ _affections_.”

Before meeting Grayson, he’d have berated the man for having a soft spot for a _murderer_ , but after knowing him, he knows it’s something out of Grayson’s control. He loves as he moves, quickly, easily, without hesitation or second thought (or any sort of plan, ever). Asking Grayson to not love someone is like asking the Joker to become sane—laughable, and something that’s crossed Damian’s mind once or twice (when he isn’t thinking of how much easier it would be to just let Todd kill the clown). He’s given up on fighting the man’s horrible taste in men, as tragic as that acceptance is.

Richard swallows the chunks of cereal roughly, wincing as he realizes he should have chewed more. He looks contemplative for a moment.

“I…I care about Jason, of course, I do. It’s something I know, and I worry because he doesn’t have anyone. Timmy at least has us, you have me, Selina has the Sirens, Steph has Oracle, but Jason… He only has himself.”

Grayson straightens, seemingly justifying his thoughts.

“We’re brothers, of course, I care about him.”

Damian scoffs, lightly spreading some butter on a piece of toast.

“As far as I was aware,” he starts, watching Grayson shovel more of those repulsive neon sugar flakes in his mouth, “Brothers don’t stare at their brother’s ass.”

He takes a bite of the toast as Richard chokes – _actually_ chokes – sending Damian a scandalized look.

“I do _not_ stare at Jason’s ass! Or his thighs for that matter!”

Damian blinks innocently at him (a look Brown had taught him on one of their team-ups), trying and failing to keep the smugness out of his voice.

“I never said you did, and I never mentioned his thighs either, Grayson.”

His mentor’s squawk of outrage is interrupted by Pennyworth’s timely entrance.

“Master Damian, it is time to leave, and Master Dick, that cereal had better be gone by the time I return.”

Grayson nods, staring at his cereal looking lost.

Damian leaves his empty bowl and plate on the table, walking towards the entrance door by Pennyworth’s side. He pauses at the door, sending a smirk at Grayson as he leaves.

‘ _Brothers my ass.’_

*****

Damian has no clue how he’s managed to get himself in this position. Grayson’s pining has reached a peak in its pathetic desperation. Todd’s previous attempts at change seem to have been abandoned in favor of a minor rampage in East End leaving three in bodybags and fifteen in the hospital. Grayson’s changed out the locks and publically distanced Batman from the Red Hood, and asked Pennyworth to bar Todd entry from the Penthouse and any other Batman affiliated location they might use. It’s everything he’s been attempting for the past five months. It’s everything he’s wanted since Todd’s first escape from Arkham and subsequent establishment as an ally. He should be pleased, and yet… And _yet_ …

Grayson is miserable. He hides it well, behind socialite smiles and makeup, behind endless hours of distractions and the reckless drive with which he pursues their targets. He eats ice cream late at night on the Penthouse balcony, staring at the sky and frowning. He cries, where Damian can’t hear him or see him, and where Pennyworth is unable to offer any comfort. He stops answering his friends' calls or having them over, and _that_ is when Damian realizes he has to do something. He has to _repair_ this thing he’s been trying to cause for months.

He really loathes irony.

“Thank you for coming,” he says to the room of assembled assistants. “I appreciate the time you have taken to hear my proposal, and assist with improving Grayson’s emotional well-being.”

He’s staged this meeting in an abandoned safe house no one uses anymore, one Kyle had kindly informed him off after his last attempt at smuggling a kitten or two home.

Troy, Brown, Cain, Kyle, and Drake blink at him. West and Harper do nothing.

Damian clears his throat.

“I have invited each of you to this meeting because Grayson values your opinions. I do not understand why, in the case of Drake, Harper, and West, but I can adapt and will to make Grayson happy again.”

West raises his hand.

“Yes, West?"

“What exactly are we here to plot?”

Damian smiles at him, pleased at the moderately intelligent question.

“We are here to assist Todd in wooing Grayson and repairing their relationship so Grayson will stop being miserable. Yes, West?”

West puts his hand down as Damian calls on him.

“Weren’t you trying to kill Jason like, last week?”

“Things have changed,” Damian replies stiffly, and when Drake snorts he turns on him furiously.

“What is so _humorous_ Drake?”

Drake gives him a half-grin, mocking enough to make Damian grind his teeth together.

“Just laughing at the fact that Talia’s little science project has a heart after all.”

Cain elbows him hard in the gut, hard enough to make Tim groan in pain.

“Not nice,” she says, before nodding at Damian to continue. He knew he liked her for a reason.

“Thank you, Cain. Now, what I need is your assistance and experience with both Richard and Todd to concoct a fool-proof plan to ensure Grayson’s happiness is not destroyed by Todd’s incompetence.”

Troy and Harper both sigh loudly.

“Rob’s pouting _is_ getting old,” Harper admits, to which Troy nods enthusiastically.

“There are only so many missed calls I can tolerate, and only so much ice cream Dick should be allowed to eat. For Hera’s sake, he doesn’t need that much sugar when he already has the hyperactivity of a boxer puppy.”

West rolls his eyes.

“You’re such a mom.”

Troy shoots him a look, at which he balks and moves his wide-eyes gaze to the floor.

“That’s all well and good,” Kyle interjects, looking amused at the bickering, “but Jason’s not exactly doing himself any favors. His little shooting spree nearly caused a turf war between Sionis and Dent. Dick’s not exactly a big fan of killing.”

Damian would beg to differ, given the video evidence he’d managed to find while researching Grayson’s romantic and platonic histories, but he does understand the point. Grayson is not entirely for killing, but he’s not completely against it. A last resort, sure, but Todd’s not using it as a last resort.

“That,” Damian replies, “is the root of this conflict. Something triggered Todd’s latent insanity, most likely some spat with Grayson, and we need to figure out what so we can fix it.”

Brown raises an eyebrow.

“You guys really don’t know what the entire fight was over? Why Jason’s off killing again and Dick’s pouting?”

Drake rolls his eyes.

“Steph, now is not the time for your smug gossip-having self to dangle the knowledge. Tell us what you know.”

She smirks.

“Did you just admit to not knowing something?”

Damian clicks his tongue impatiently.

“Cut to the chase, Brown.”

She sighs.

“Fiiiiiiine. I was on patrol with the love birds about a week ago on the assassination case. On TV, a single bullet, mercenary quality, all-in-all we thought it was Lawton. And after the whole attempting to murder Jason thing a few months back—” Damian’s eye twitches slightly at that, “—Dick was pretty eager to put him behind bars. He called Deathstroke up for information, and of course, he wanted to meet Dick alone. Dick went, which Jason was _not_ happy about, and we followed, which _Dick_ was not happy about, and Jason and I ended up bursting in in the middle of Slade kissing Dick, which kind of sent Jason on a rampage?

Harper shakes his head.

“That explains so _much_.”

West nods.

“It really does.”

“Continue Stephanie,” Troy interjects, flicking Harper’s nose and crossing her legs delicately.

“Umm… They fought a bit, Jason shot Slade in the dick—”

“Good for him,” Kyle interrupts. “Wilson’s an asshat.”

“—and Dick yelled at him. The kind of yelling we’ve all heard about between B and Dick? It was _ugly_. They both said some pretty hurtful things, and then Jason took off and Slade looked all smug and Dick punched him, which was pretty sweet, and we all know the rest.”

“Did Jason, by chance, insult Dick with a specific term? Maybe, I don’t know, calling him a—”

“Slut?” Brown interjects, cutting off Harper. “Yeah. He did. A few other choice terms were used, but that one hit Dick pretty hard.”

“Shit,” West mutters.

Drake taps his fingers on his knee in some pattern Damian can’t recognize.

“That would set Dick off alright. And Jason would view the whole thing as a betrayal, which explains the killings.”

“Yes Drake,” Damian drawls sarcastically, “we are all aware you were trained by my father. No need to posture to feel important.”

Drake glares at him, mouth twisted in an ugly snarl.

“You _little—”_

“Boys, boys,” Kyle interrupts, laying a comforting hand on Drake’s shoulder. “That won’t solve any problems. Do put aside your little rivalry for now, please.”

Damian clears his throat, brushing non-existent wrinkles out of his pristinely pressed uniform.

“Yes, my apologies Kyle. You are, of course, correct. We need a plan of action. Ideas?”

“Sex pollen?” West offers.

Troy groans, but Damian gives it a fair bit of thought.

“The consent would be dubious, and while there _is_ a possibility it could resolve their issues, I’d rather not risk creating more.”

“Lock them in a room and force a confrontation?” Brown suggests.

“Jason gets violent when he’s cornered,” Drake counters, “and Dick’s not exactly happy with him. We’d all get stuck in the crossfire and I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel like being stabbed again.”

‘ _Too bad he didn’t do a better job of it,’_ Damian thinks, but Todd’s always been incompetent so Drake’s survival says less about him and more about Todd. The _people_ Grayson surrounds himself with…

“Talk to them individually and show them each the other’s point of view?” Harper offers, but he’s already laughing as the words leave his mouth. “It’s a nice thought, but they’re too bull-headed for that to work.”

Troy’s eyes light up, red lips curling deviously.

“I’ve got it!” she says, turning to them all excitedly. “Truth serum! We’ll divide into groups, knock them out, lock them up, and ask them questions until their issues are resolved!”

Kyle nods.

“I like that plan.”

Cass hums her agreement, and Brown’s smile is wide.

“So we’re okay with drugging our friends now?” West asks, jaw agape. “I thought that wasn’t okay.”

Troy turns her blinding smile on him.

“Think like Batman, Wally. It’s for the greater good, ergo it’s okay.”

“I don’t think thinking like the man who planned out the deaths of all his friends is the best idea, but sure. Okay.”

“Then we’re in agreement,” Damian announces. “We’ll split into two groups, knock out Richard and his idiotic choice of partner, obtain truth serum, and interrogate them. Correct?”

Everyone nods.

“O probably has samples of truth serum from Riddler’s last little puzzle,” Brown offers. “I’ll ask her for some.”

Troy pulls Damian into a hug.

“That right there?” she whispers into his ear. “That was all N. Good job, baby bird.”

Her goodbye kiss has him flushed, and it takes him a moment to rub off the lipstick with an adequate amount of disgust. He must be catching a cold. He’ll have to ask Pennyworth for some medicine as soon as he’s able to.

*

The not-kidnapping happens the next night after Brown manages to take the serum from a surprisingly cooperative Gordon _also_ done with the soap opera and the End Richard Grayson’s Moping Society (E.R.G.M.S. for short) divides into two groups. Cain, West, Drake, and Damian take Grayson, and Troy, Harper, Kyle, and Brown take Todd. While Grayson is extremely trusting and thereby easy to fool, Todd would only leave himself open to those he knows and trusts, and apparently he’s worked with Troy and Harper in the past, and Brown and Kyle more recently.

Damian engages Grayson in mindless prattle his Batman loves while Cain sneaks up behind with West and Drake standing aside as backup. Cain gives three-pointed strikes before Grayson can react, and he goes down like a Jenga tower from game nights (that Pennyworth somehow manages to always win, despite Damian’s increasing amount of time spent researching the logistics of these games and how to better his odds of winning).

When they make it to the abandoned safehouse E.R.G.M.S had met in originally, Todd is there, bound to a chair with Troy’s rope wrapped around him. West sets Grayson down next to Todd gently, and Drake taps the needles full of truth serum lightly, breaking apart the bubbles with a careful eye.

“Ready?” he asks them.

Kyle and Harper move to guard the front door, and West moves to root through the kitchen under the guise of guarding the hallway. Cain sits at the counter carefully, eyes wary as the track every sigh Todd’s mouth releases. Her mouth is slack, distrust shining in her every twitch. She doesn’t like this any more than Damian does, but he supposes they’re both willing to make sacrifices for Richard’s happiness.

Troy’s grip on the rope is iron tight, and Drake nods to himself before sticking the needle in Todd’s bare arm, presumably in a vein. Todd stirs, so Drake quickly injects Richard with a different needle before stepping back to watch them wake.

Grayson comes to slowly, testing the bonds and keeping his breathing slow as to fake sleep. Troy kicks him so he’ll stop pretending, and he merely sighs as he takes them in. Todd comes to violently, pulling and tugging, green eyes glowing threateningly as he curses under his breath.

“What the _fuck_ am I doing here?! What is _he_ doing here?”

Grayson scoffs.

“Isn’t it obvious, Jason? They’re sick of our shit.”

Huh. It appears Grayson had taken himself out of denial, perhaps all the moping had been good for character development and emotional growth. Wonders never cease.

“I don’t know what you’re— _I know what you mean_.” Todd’s eyes are murderous as the words are pulled from his tongue, despite his resistance. “You fucking bastards. You’re lucky I don’t have my gun, because I would _shoot you_ if I did.”

Good to know where Todd stands. Troy had been right to bind him.

“Try it,” Troy says with a disarming grin. “I need a workout, and Dick’s been too busy moping over your useless ass to try very hard.”

“I have _no_ —” Richard covers his mouth so the words are muffled.

Todd’s eyes dim, and he noticeably tenses.

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Let me go.”

“Not a chance!” Brown crows. “Not until you two patch up your lover’s tiff so we can all go home.”

Richard groans.

“Why does everyone hate me?”

Troy pats his cheek lovingly.

“We _love_ you, which is why this is going to be fixed before Alfred intervenes. He’s going to be a _lot_ meaner about it when he breaks. You know he will.”

The group collectively shudders.

“I’ll be asking the questions,” Drake announces, a stack of flashcards in hand.

Todd’s eyes burn a nuclear green and his expression is just a bit feral. Damian’s tempted to cut him loose and see what happens.

“ _Replacement.”_

Richard just gives Drake a look of profound disappointment, shaking his head slightly without commenting. The crunch of food is audible, which lets him know his thoughts on West were correct. The scent of buttery popcorn wafts over to them, and Brown pats Drake on the shoulder before walking towards the kitchen, presumably to wrangle some popcorn from West’s greedy hands.

Drake clears his throat and reads off the first flashcard.

“Question one: Jason, why are you mad at Dick?”

“Fuck you, Replacement,” he snarls, but his mouth opens back up right after he shuts it. “He let Deathstroke the fucking Terminator kiss him, and he looked _more than fucking happy_ with his wandering hands.”

Richard glares at him.

“I forgot I was such a slut I just let any person kiss me. God forbid I get caught up in a moment.”

Kyle chuckles.

“Being an ass isn’t helping you out here, kid.”

Todd shoots her a glare, but Drake interrupts before he can yell at her.

“Question two: Dick, why are you mad at Jason?”

“He’s such a fucking _asshole_ ,” Richard seethes, eyes locked on Todd’s and more furious than Damian’s ever seen him. Evidently, he doesn’t care to fight the truth serum. “I mean, he’s always running from any _hint_ of intimacy and acting like it means nothing, but then an ex kisses you and he doesn’t give you any time to _process_ or pull away. He just starts yelling and shooting and acting like he _owns you_ when he very clearly does not!”

Drake nods.

“That must be frustrating,” he replies sympathetically, but it comes out more robotic than it should and hangs limply in the charged atmosphere like a deflated whoopie cushion. Drake is so _useless_.

“Did you swallow a therapist’s guide to not solving anything,” Damian snarks, “or is that just your personality?”

“At least I’m _trying_ , brat, unlike you!”

“The only reason your useless self is _here_ is that _I_ called—”

“—I’ve never _said_ I owned you!” Todd shouts over them, and Drake’s retort dies an unmourned death in his mouth. Damian turns his attention back to Richard and Todd. “How can I, when you’re off kissing _Deathstroke the fucking Terminator!_ ”

“Oh _please_ , that happened _once_! Unlike your tendency to go hide in a bunker and pretend nothing’s happening because you’re _afraid_ of commitment every other day!”

“This is good,” Brown comments to Cain through a mouth of popcorn. “Better than the drama on the Bachelor, really."

Cain nods, but her body is tightly coiled, like a spring waiting to be released. Damian wonders what she sees in Todd, what it is she doesn’t trust (assuming it isn’t the everything about him).

Troy’s eyes flicker between them quickly, like a spectator tracking the ball during a tennis match. She doesn’t seem concerned, if her little knowing grin is anything to go by. Everyone else appears varying degrees of tired and done, and Harper’s head bangs against the door quietly.

“Sorry I’m not as good at _commitment_ as you are, _Dickhead_! But that’s not exactly right, is it? You’ve been engaged twice and here you are trying to get in a fucking zombie’s pants!”

“Congratu-fucking-lations! You noticed the fact that I’m _willing to make a commitment_ and not afraid of trying again, unlike _some!_ ”

“Uh guys,” Drake tries, waving his flashcards at the bickering couple, but they ignore him.

“Oh, like I’m such a _stellar choice_ for the Golden Boy of the family! I’m the fuck-up, Dickie, remember that? What do you think will end up happening _if_ we were to be something? We wouldn’t last because of your goddamn morals and my itchy trigger finger around the sick fucks in this city!”

“Guys,” Drake tries again, but simpers under the combined heat of their glares.

“We don’t _know that_ because you won’t try! You just give up and run before we can even try!”

“So sorry I’m not _perfect_ like you are!”

Richard snarls, slipping out of the rope and launching himself at Todd before Todd can react. Troy tugs on her lasso, letting Grayson and Todd crash onto the hardwood floor and roll.

“I’m not **fucking** **perfect**! Do you think it’s easy for me? Putting myself out there? _No! It’s fucking not!_ ”

Todd catches Grayson’s fist, but doesn’t swing at him.

“I _know_ you’re not perfect, but you’re as fucking close as it gets for me. For this fucked up city.”

Damian feels awkward, like he’s imposing upon a private moment, meant to be shared between the two of them. Cain slips past the pair silently, dragging Brown and West with her and out the door.

“Jason—”

Todd flips their positions so he’s on top, caressing Dick’s cheek with the back of his knuckles, an infinite softness in his eyes. It looks like… it _looks_ like…

It looks like the way mother had when she held the discarded cowl in her hands, warmer than Damian had known her to be otherwise. It looks like the way Kyle looks when she stares at Gotham late at night, thinking about his father. It looks like the way Cain and Brown look at each other when no one is around to notice and they’re too absorbed to see Damian.

It looks like love.

“You deserve so much better, Pretty Bird,” Todd murmurs warmly. “You deserve the fucking world. I can’t give you the world.”

“I don’t want the world, Little Wing,” Richard says, cupping Todd’s stilled hand with his. “I just want you.”

The kiss they share is more intimate than any Damian’s ever seen, the kind that poets write about, the kind singers sing about. It’s the kind of intimacy he’s never really seen before, and he smiles, because Grayson’s practically glowing as Todd’s hands wrap around him, eyes sparkling when they dart open to peek at Todd with a fondness Damian remembers from Todd’s breakout. Troy wraps an arm around Damian and an arm around Drake, leading them towards the door where Kyle and Harper had already escaped through.

“C’mon little birdies,” she says, beaming at Grayson and Todd’s smiles. “Our work here is done.”

Damian looks back once, in a moment suspended infinitely in the space between his mentor and Todd. Two forms intertwined in the low-light of candles. Red and Blue. Light and Dark. Gold and Grey. Grayson and Todd. Richard and Jason. For a single moment, Damian watches their hearts beat as one.

He knows Grayson’s in good hands as he leaves without a single word. He loves Richard more than anyone, so he gives his tentative approval in his silence.


End file.
